Like Father, Like Son
by Dylan Wolf
Summary: In the wake of the Triwizard Tournament, Harry deals with the revelation that he's a mutant. Meanwhile, Logan deals with the discovery that for twenty odd years, he lived a completely different life as James Potter. When father and son get together in Harry's year five, the Wizarding community is in for a rude awakening and Voldemort is in trouble. Comments more than welcome.
1. Chapter 1

Like Father, Like Son

Harry woke with a scream. He was drenched in sweat and his heart was racing. He'd had the dream again. The one that took him back to the end of the Triwizard Tournament. Voldemort and his Deatheaters were there. Voldemort's first act upon getting a new body had been to take Harry's wand and kill poor Cedric Diggory. That was when Harry lost it. He remembered the bloodlust; the pain as his physical body changed, grew more than a foot, put on nearly two hundred pounds of muscle and claws . . . and teeth, and tore free of his bonds like they were tissue paper.

He killed three Deatheaters before the others even knew what happened; starting with Peter Pettigrew whose throat he ripped out with a massive bite. He remembered the taste; like raw pork; the blood sweet and warm. He barely made it to the bathroom before throwing up. The Dursley's wouldn't be happy. It was the third time in as many nights since he returned to their home that he'd woken up violently.

"Blast it, boy!" Vernon bellowed. "As if it wasn't bad enough when you were just a damned wizard. I won't have this in my house."

For the first time in his life, Harry turned on his uncle in full rage, realizing that he now towered over the man and even outweighed him. "You think I like this, fat man? You think I enjoy waking up screaming? You think I'm doing it just to cause you grief? Get it through your thick head. The world doesn't revolve around you."

"How dare you?" For all his fluster, Harry could smell the fear on Vernon; on all of them.

"Just leave me alone!" he screamed, returning to his room and slamming the door behind him, shaking the walls and nearly breaking the doorjamb.

Any response from the Dursley's was interrupted by an insistent knock at the door. It was as much as Vernon could take. First the boy and now visitors at this ungodly hour. It simply wasn't proper; then again, nothing about his sister-in-law's brat was proper.

Stomping down the stairs in his robe, he swung the door open with more force than he intended. "What do you want? What's so important it couldn't wait until a decent hour?"

Five people were at the door. Four of them were strange enough; a bald man in a wheelchair, a tall black woman with platinum hair and blue eyes, a red head who looked disturbingly familiar and a tall man who was wearing sunglasses despite the fact that the sun would be rising for at least two more hours. It was the fifth, a short, stocky, ugly fellow with wild hair who looked like a reject from one of those old spaghetti westerns, who was the most disturbing of all.

"Mornin', Vernon," the man growled with familiarity, distaste and a promise of violence. "We're here f'r my son."

The short man forced his way past Vernon and stared at Petunia and Dudley, then ignored them, sniffing the air as if he was following a scent and headed upstairs like he owned the place as the bald man considered Petunia and Vernon with a gaze that laid their very souls bare. "You're treatment of Harry has been nothing short of criminal."

Vernon tried to bluster. "What business is that of yours? We gave the brat a roof over his head. Better 'n he deserved if you ask me. And how does he repays us . . . ?"

The redhead gestured and an invisible hand pushed Vernon back and down to the floor. "I wouldn't say another word, if I were you. Professor Xavier might be reluctant to use his powers to give you the justice you deserve. I'm not inclined to be so . . . restrained."

The woman turned to Petunia. "Hello, Petunia. I'd say it was nice to see you, but I'd be lying."

Petunia turned white as a sheet. "Jean?"

It was the man in the sunglasses who stepped forward to calm things down however, as the four entered the house and he closed the door behind them. "Before things get out of hand, it's probably time for some introductions. I'm Scott Summers. My wife is Dr. Jean Grey. She introduced the Professor, Professor Charles Xavier. Our friend here is Ororo Monroe. The angry man who just stormed up your stairs is Logan, but nearly fifteen years ago, you knew him as James Potter. How that happened is a story in itself and one we're just beginning to unravel, so you'll have to forgive us if we're a little short on explanations."

"They don't deserve explanations, Scott." Jean stared daggers through her cousin. "A cupboard, Petunia? You made your own nephew sleep in a cupboard for most of his childhood? Criminal neglect and child abuse barely begin to describe your crimes."

Petunia shrunk back from her cousin. As much as she'd been jealous of Lily, she was terrified of Jean. Lily may have been a witch, but Jean was a mutant; and worse, a mutant telepath. Years before, when they were only eleven and twelve, she'd used her mutant powers to lay Petunia's soul bare; exposing her as the petty, small, worthless wretch she wanted to deny being.

She frowned. "If Logan finds out what you did to his son, your own kid is likely to find out what it's like to be an orphan."

"How dare you threaten us!" Vernon, showing some uncharacteristic back bone stepped between Jean and his wife. "Get out of my house before I call the constable."

"Go ahead." Jean stared him down. "Call the police. I know Harry hasn't had to live under your damned stairs since he started at Hogwarts, but there's still likely to be more than enough evidence for forensic experts to confirm our claims that you forced him to live there for nearly ten years. Yes, I'd love you to call the police. I'd even be happy to call them for you."

His face became even redder as he huffed and sputtered, but he still backed down. He had no choice. Deep down he knew their treatment of Harry had been nothing short of criminal. He honestly didn't believe the brat deserved better, but the British government wasn't likely to agree with him. The last thing he wanted was for them to get involved.

"Damn right that's the last thing you want, Dursley." Jean looked at him like he was something disgusting that she just stepped in. "If I had my way, I'd _make_ you crawl to the nearest police office and confess every single crime and sin you ever committed. You'd better hope Harry's a lot more forgiving than I am because he's going to be the one deciding your fate. It's his right."

Upstairs, Logan followed his son's scent to a room at the end of the hall. The whole idea of having a completely forgotten life; one with a wife and a son, no less, was disturbing in ways he couldn't even describe. When Harry's eruption less than a week ago spiked Cerebro, the Professor detected strong similarities between the teen's DNA signature and Logan's; similarities that could only be shared between father and son. The path from that realization and this hallway had been a circuitous one, but he was finally here.

Harry's response when Logan knocked was almost predictable. "Go away. Just leave me alone."

"Not gonna happen, kid," Logan responded. "It's time we got reacquainted . . . long past time, an' that's a fact."

The door opened. The young man who stood there was seven feet tall and at least three hundred fifty pounds of muscle. His hair was long and shaggy, hanging down to his shoulders. He wasn't ugly, but he had a very primal appearance. His mouth was full of razor sharp teeth. His eyes resembled those of a cat. His fingers ended in vicious looking claws. There was no question, however, that this was James Potter's son; his son.

"Who are you?" Something was familiar about this man, but Harry couldn't put a finger on it.

"I could soften this a bit," Logan told him, "but that ain't my style. My name's Logan. I was born James Howlett, but f'r twenty some years I was someone else. I was James Potter. I didn't remember any of it 'til you spiked a mutant detectin' machine some friends o' mine have, but I'm y'r father, I ain't dead an' I'm here t' help ya learn how t' control y'r new powers; mebbe get t' know ya while I'm at it."

Harry blinked several times. This man didn't look much like the pictures he'd seen of his father, but there were similarities. The very possibility should have freaked him out, but given the path his life had taken the past four years, somehow it didn't seem nearly as farfetched as some of the other things he'd learned about himself.

"My father." It wasn't a question, but several did follow. "Where have you been all my life? How are you not dead? Why don't you look like your pictures? You're shorter and way stockier. How's that possible?"

"Good questions." Logan smirked. "Wish I had a lot better answers, but I'm just startin' t' piece th' story t'gether myself. As f'r where I've been; all over, but been based outta a school in upstate New York f'r th' past few years. A while back, some folks did a lotta crap to my head; messed up my memories somethin' fierce. Completely erasin' all memory o' my life as James Potter was just part of it. I ain't dead 'cuz I'm too tough t' kill an' too damn stubborn t' quit. I don't look like James Potter 'cuz th' bastard that turned me into him in th' first place turned me back after y'r mother was killed. He's a jerk calls himself the High Evolutionary. I don't remember any of it, but seems I ran into him about thirty odd years back."

Logan shook his head. "F'r reasons all his own, an' he ain't talkin', he turned me into an embryo an' implanted me in this childless couple from the magical world who came to him lookin' f'r help havin' a baby. Yeah, he's got that kinda power; scientific, not magical. Seems he thought I'd make an interestin' test subject. Figured you'd make an even more interestin' one after y'r ma was killed. I made him restore my an' some other folks' memories when I found him after you popped up on Cerebro, then disappeared again. I'da killed him if I coulda, but he's even harder t' kill 'n I am."

"What did you do to him?" Harry asked with near clinical detachment.

"Let's just say he's gonna be nursin' his wounds f'r a bit an' leave it at that."

Harry shook his head, then stepped back and slumped onto the bed that was now much too small for him. "My life just keeps getting stranger and stranger."

"Look, Harry," Logan suggested. "This ain't any place we wanna be right now. I got some friends downstairs I'd like ya t' meet, then I'd like t' take ya back t' America with me . . . at least f'r th' rest o' th' summer. We can decide what t' do 'bout Hogwarts an' Voldemort later. Right now, ya just came into y'r mutant powers . . . ya get that from me, by th' way, but also from y'r mother's side o' th' family. Th' folks I've been hangin' with lately run this school where we teach kids like you t' learn how t' control their powers."

Harry shrugged and started packing, which wouldn't take long since he hadn't exactly unpacked since arriving. "Anything to get away from my aunt and uncle."

Less than twenty minutes after waking so violently, Harry found himself strapped into a seat in the single most advanced plane he'd ever seen, much less been on. His father was seated across the aisle from him. The two women, including the redhead who introduced herself as his mother's cousin, were seated behind them. Jean's husband, Scott was seated at the controls and the Professor's chair was locked in place at the co-pilot position. If he hadn't been so shell shocked, he would have found the whole thing wonderful. As it was, however, he could barely think.

"What do you want to do about Petunia and her husband, Harry?" Jean asked him at one point. "The way they treated you was downright criminal. If you want to press charges, we know a lawyer who would love to take the case. Her name's Vange Whedon and she turns into a very big red dragon."

"As long as I never have to see them again, I couldn't care less." He sighed.

"That much I c'n promise ya, Harry." Logan wasn't happy that Jean and the others hadn't told him about Harry's treatment until they were already in the air and out of British airspace. "I may not have much place t' be makin' decisions f'r ya, but ain't no way I'm lettin' ya go back t' that place."

Harry nodded and there was a small surge on the astral plane. Harry sensed it, but didn't understand it. The same was true for the Professor and Jean. The only other person to sense it was one Albus Dumbledore and it woke him from a sound sleep. The blood wards he'd set up to protect Harry had just fallen. He needed to get to the Dursley home immediately. Rising, he took his wand and silently changed his bed gown into his normal robes, then apported to the living room of the home he'd been forced to place Harry into fifteen years earlier.

Dudley had gone back to bed, but he found Vernon and Petunia sitting in the dining room sipping tea laced with brandy. They looked up at Dumbledore angrily and Vernon bolted from his chair. One glare from Dumbledore sat the large bellicose man down.

"What happened?" Dumbledore demanded.

"His father . . . ." Petunia began.

Dumbledore blinked several times. "James is dead."

"No," Petunia responded bitterly. "No, he isn't. He's changed, but it was him."

Dumbledore considered the preposterous possibility. "Tell me exactly what happened."

"The brat woke us all with his nightmares and screaming for the third night in a row," Vernon told the hated professor. "Then there was a knock at the front door. James was there with four others; Jean Grey, Petunia's cousin, and her husband; a bald man in a wheelchair they introduced as Professor Charles Xavier; and a strange looking black woman with white hair named Ororo Monroe. Mutant freaks all of them if you ask me. We know the Grey woman is one and that professor used telepathic powers to invade our minds."

"James was shorter," Petunia took over, "and extremely stocky; almost as wide as he was tall. He was weathered and no longer as damnably handsome. His hair was longer and wilder and he wasn't wearing glasses. His voice was gruff and gravelly, but I'd stake my life on it being him. As if I'd ever forget the monster who stole my sister's heart."

"They said he was going by the name Logan now," Vernon interjected. "They stayed down here and tried to threaten us while he went up alone to get the boy. Then they all left together and good riddance, if you ask me."

"Charles Xavier, you say?" Dumbledore stroked his beard thoughtfully.

"You know him?" Vernon demanded.

"By reputation only," Dumbledore admitted. "He runs a school in upstate New York and has written extensively on subjects like genetics. He's a leading advocate for mutant rights. I was unaware that he was a mutant himself, but I'm not surprised. Did they explain how James could have survived the killing curse and where he's been for the past fifteen years?"

"Not to us they didn't," Vernon told him bitterly.

Dumbledore sighed. "Well, it would appear that your responsibilities are at an end. The wards I erected fifteen years ago have fallen as Harry no longer considers this place home and has no intention of ever returning here."

Now it was Vernon and Petunia's turn to be surprised, but it was Petunia who found her voice first. "That's it? We never have to put up with him again?"

"As far as your responsibility to Harry is concerned, it's over," Dumbledore warned them. "That doesn't mean you're safe. Voldemort is back and his Deatheaters remain a constant threat; one the Ministry of Magic refuses to recognize. It's possible they could come after you in hopes of getting to Harry, but it's not likely. Just in case, I'll put some new wards on your house before I leave. Beyond that, I can only recommend that you be careful who you invite inside."

With that, Dumbledore vanished, leaving the husband and wife feeling a mix of emotions that ran the gamut from relief to dread.

Elsewhere, the drone of the plane's engines slowly lulled an exhausted fifteen year old to sleep; a sleep that Jean made sure was undisturbed by nightmares. "Poor kid. He's been through hell, but he's strong."

Logan smiled and brushed a hair from his son's forehead. "He gets it from his mother. She was th' strong one. Even as James, I was fulla spit an' vinegar; more likely t' think with my wand or fists 'n with my head. Lily was th' best thing t' ever happen t' me in any lifetime."

"Are we sure the High Evolutionary is finished with him?" Scott addressed the elephant in the cabin. "He went to a lot of trouble to study the boy. We know he altered your memories, Logan, and Jean's and even yours, Professor; along with Jean's family and who knows how many others. For all we know, he could have been manipulating this Professor Dumbledore. That's an awful lot of effort to just give up on so easily."

Logan's smile vanished without a trace. "I told him what t' expect if he stuck his nose in me or my son's lives again. He wasn't all that afraid o' me, but I told him I'd be bringin' th' X-Men, th' Avengers an' th' flamin' Fantastic Four down on him if he did an' we'd level his damn mountain if that's what it took t' take him out. Made sure he knew I wasn't bluffin', too."

Scott nodded; impressed, but not admitting it, leaving Ororo to ask the next question. "Given he's your son, Logan, and given his connection to the Grey family, one has to wonder what kinds of powers he'll develop."

Xavier answered that. "Believe it or not, I'm convinced that his powers are primarily psychokinetic in nature, but focused internally rather than externally like Jean. Even his physical changes could be explained by some kind of extremely high end psychokinetic gene manipulation. He needed physical power to survive whatever threat he faced, so he altered his genetic structure to give himself that power."

Logan nodded, not willing to argue with Charles when it came to the science behind mutations. "If that's so, an' I ain't sayin' it ain't, why hasn't he changed back? Th' threat's over."

"Is it?" Xavier turned his chair to face the others. "Whatever threat he faced may still be out there. There's also the fact that he knew he was going to have to go back to the Dursley home. I doubt this poor boy has felt safe in a very long time, if ever."

Logan nodded. "Then our first job's gotta be t' change that."

"I agree." Jean smiled. "Just being away from Great Britain and learning to use his new powers should be a good start, but we all need to make every effort to make him feel welcomed and safe."

Xavier agreed as well. "Peter, Kitty, Bobby, Rogue and the other students closer to his age will help, but we all need to make the effort as well. In time, though, young Harry has the potential to become as formidable as a mutant as he's likely to become as a wizard; probably not Omega class, but definitely high Beta to low Alpha; potentially even higher. I'll have Sage to take a moment to study him when we get back to the mansion, but given his apparent ability to manipulate his genetic structure, enhanced strength, teeth and claws are likely to be only a few of the abilities he develops."

Back in Great Britain, Dumbledore prepared for a trip. Checking a clock, he calculated the time difference between Greenwich Mean Time and Eastern Standard Time, nodded and threw some powder into the fireplace in his office. "Dr. Stephen Strange."

"Well." Strange's visage appeared in the now green flames. "Good morning, Albus. What causes you to call at what must be an ungodly hour in Britain?"

"It's been a peculiar night, Stephen." Dumbledore actually laughed in spite of himself. "And that's an understatement. I'm going to be making an unexpected trip to New York for a few days to a week and was wondering if I could impose on you."

"No imposition," Strange assured his old friend and sometime mentor. "I'd welcome the company. What's up?"

Dumbledore sighed. "A matter involving a student of mine, I'm afraid. You're familiar with the legend of the 'Boy That Lived'?"

Strange nodded. "Harry Potter, if I remember correctly. Killed that dark sorcerer you were dealing with a decade ago. I'd have liked to have been able to help you, but I had my hands more than full in the Dark Dimension, battling Dormammu when it all came to a head."

Albus more than understood. "Well, he was just taken from his home by a man claiming to be his father, who was supposedly killed by Voldemort fourteen years ago come All Hallows Eve. The man was accompanied by one Professor Charles Xavier and they took the boy to Xavier's school in your area."

"The boy's a mutant in addition to being a wizard?"

Dumbledore told Strange the story of what happened at the end of the Triwizard Tournament. "I wasn't certain before, but little else would properly explain the changes Harry went through in that fight."

"I know Xavier and his staff well," Stephen said. "Do you know which of them his father is?"

"I believe he's using the name Logan, but I'm not sure if it's his first name or last."

Strange blinked several times. "Only, at least as far as I know."

"You know him." Being aware of Strange's connections to the meta community of America, Dumbledore wasn't exactly surprised."

"You've probably heard of him," Strange responded, projecting an image of Logan without his cowl. "He's a member of two teams of heroes; both the Avengers and the X-Men. He calls him Wolverine."

Now it was Dumbledore's turn to blink several times. "He's changed a great deal, but I can see the similarities. This could explain a great deal about Harry's survival. Can you make an introduction for me?"

"I'll arrange it for this evening our time," Strange promised. "How do you intend to get here?"

"I've been considering that," Dumbledore mused as he closed his trunk. "It's a bit far to fly or apport, and even if I wasn't likely to make too much of a stir on muggle transportation, I lack the time or leisure for such a flight. As much as I dislike doing so, I suppose I'll have to take the international floo network."

Strange understood. "You can come straight here. I'll leave the connection open, which should ease your transport. I'll be in the next room making the arrangements for your introduction when you arrive."

As he felt the surge of magic of Dumbledore's transport a few minutes later, Stephen was greeted by a female voice on the phone. "Xavier's School, this is Tessa, how can I help you?"

"Ah, greetings." Stephen didn't recognize either voice or name, but wasn't surprised. "I'm Dr. Stephen Strange, an old acquaintance of your headmaster and much of his staff."

"I know who you are, Dr. Strange," Tessa responded. "The Professor and the others are out at the moment, but how can we help you?"

"Yes," Strange nodded as Dumbledore joined him, brushing dust and ash off his robes. "They would still be on their way back from Great Britain, wouldn't they? No matter, a friend is in town and has requested an introduction. If possible, I'd like to bring him by this evening. His name is Albus Dumbledore. He's a fellow educator and headmaster of the school the young man they went to England to contact has been attending the past four years."

"Really?" Tessa wasn't sure why she was surprised. "You people out there move fast. Is there a problem?"

"Unlikely," Strange assured her. "He's merely concerned for the boy and an old friend of his father's. He'd like to see both of them and see how they're doing."

Tessa considered that. "Why don't you bring him by this evening and you can all talk over dinner? I'll call the others on the plane and let them know to expect you."

"Excellent." Strange almost smiled. "We'll see you then."

Hanging up the phone, Strange turned to Dumbledore. "It's all arranged. Given the setting on you biological clock, why don't I show you to one of my guest rooms so you can settle in and maybe get at least a nap before we leave."

Dumbledore smiled. "That would be a relief. I'm no longer as young as I once was."

In Westchester, Sage went to the communications room down in the complex beneath the school and contacted the X-Jet. "Dr. Strange just called. He'd like to bring a friend by for dinner. The man's name is Albus Dumbledore and he's . . . ."

"I know who he is," Logan interrupted. "He's a man with a whole helluva lotta explainin' t' do. I can't wait t' see him."

"Should I set the Danger Room up as a dining room to reduce the collateral damage to the school?" She asked only half in jest.

"I doubt that will be necessary, Tessa," Xavier smiled; a longsuffering expression. "It's likely that if the High Evolutionary manipulated you and Jean and her family, he wouldn't have much of a problem manipulating key members of the Wizarding Community of Britain."

"Ya got a point," Logan admitted almost reluctantly. "Th' Dumbledore James Potter remembers woulda never put a helpless child in such a situation without good reason, an' certainly wouldn'ta left the kid there once he discovered how he was bein' treated . . . an' he woulda discovered it, too. He'da made it his job t' keep an eye on th' boy."

He sighed. "It'll be good t' see th' old man again; find out what happened t' th' other Marauders; Padfoot, Moonie an' Wormtail. Even then I was into nicknames an' codenames an' th' like. Strange how little things've changed. Even in that life I was still a warrior. Just a different battle."


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter Two

Harry woke with a start, finding himself in a large bed in an almost palatial, if sparsely furnished, room. The afternoon sun was beaming in through the window. The squat man who was his father sat in an easy chair nearby, his cowboy boots propped up on an expensive looking nightstand next to the bed. He was watching Harry with a bemused, but infinitely regretful, expression.

"How long was I asleep?" Harry asked.

"'Bout four hours," Logan told him, "give 'r take."

"So," Harry said next for want of something to say. "You're my dad."

Logan shrugged. "Yup. Looks that way."

Logan had never been at a loss of words before, but there he was. "So. Hear ya took out Wormtail. Not th' way I'da preferred ya learnin' 'bout y'r powers, but good job. I'da done a lot worse t' him f'r what he did t' y'r ma. How 'r Sirius 'n Remus? Ya met 'em yet? Guess ya'd have t' have. I got some questions f'r 'em."

Having too much pent up energy to sleep any longer, Harry got up and started looking for his trunk. "I met them both in my third year. If you want to know why they didn't get me out of the Dursley's, Remus being a werewolf meant the Ministry would never let him near me. Sirius . . . Dad . . . Sirius was in Azkaban for killing you and mom."

"Where th' hell they get that idea?" Logan looked his son in the eye. "I c'n see how they mighta thought it, but veritaserum woulda proven his innocence at trial."

"Apparently there wasn't much of a trial," Harry told his father. "They just declared him guilty and sentenced him to life. Even Professor Dumbledore and Moonie thought Sirius killed Wormtail in the middle of Piccadilly. When Padfoot found out that Pettigrew was still alive, he broke out to protect me. He's still wanted."

"'Nother thing I gotta take care of." Logan wasn't happy and Harry found himself feeling sorry for Minister Fudge. "'Nother thing th' Evolutionary's gonna haveta pay f'r someday. I swear, that man screwed up so many lives."

Seeing Harry pulling clothes out of his trunk, Logan stopped him. "Y'r clothes 'r a li'l dated, Harry, so I asked y'r cousin an' some o' th' ladies 'round here t' make ya some with this device we got called a fabricator. Why don't ya get y'rself cleaned up an' try 'em on? They're hangin' in th' closet. Y'r gonna have a lot t' choose from. Seems th' girls went a li'l overboard."

Harry looked in the closet that was almost as big as his room back at the Dursley's. There were jeans, slacks shirts of all kinds, belts, jackets, coats and several pairs of shoes; all in his current size.

"You weren't kidding," he quipped.

"Jeannie said somethin' 'bout missin' way too many birthdays an' Christmases an' how she intended t' make up f'r it. Women an' clothes. Go figure. Ya might wanna thank her, though. Her heart's in th' right place."

Logan nodded to the other door. "Bathroom's over there. Grab a shower n' get dressed. We got some stuff t' take care of before dinner. Dumbledore's comin', by th' way. Seems he's a li'l concerned 'bout ya; wants t' make sure y'r alright. Chuck wants t' make sure he's no longer under th' Evolutionary's influence.

"Chuck?" Harry stopped at the bathroom door.

Logan smiled. "Professor Xavier, t' you."

Several minutes later, father and son walked the halls of the mansion. "Gonna introduce ya t' a lady named Tessa. She's a telepath, but she's got a lotta other powers; some that deal with mutations. She can analyze powers an' even maximize 'em; th' last with unpredictable results. We got some theories 'bout th' nature o' y'r powers. Xavier wants her t' confirm 'em or clarify 'em."

It didn't take Tessa long to confirm Xavier's hypothesis. "Your powers and appearance are a reaction to the threat you faced."

"Why haven't I changed back, then?" he asked her.

She smile enigmatically. "Have you tried?"

The question seemed alien to him, but Logan explained it further. "Ya ain't felt safe. Voldemort's still out there. Th' Deatheaters 'r still out there. Ya were facin' another summer with Petunia an' her brood. Ain't no surprise ya been runnin' high on adrenalin since that fight."

Harry thought about it for a moment and suddenly his body morphed. Being made of unstable molecules, his clothes quickly adjusted to fit his now smaller build.

He considered his image in a nearby mirror. "I look like myself again, but I think I'm a little taller; definitely . . . healthier."

"In your case, Harry," Tessa explained, "your appearance is a reflection of your self-image."

"Ya look a lot like I did back in th' day," Logan noted almost wistfully, "but ya got y'r mother's eyes."

He turned to Tessa. "Could this be what he'da looked like if the damned Dursleys hadn't raised him?"

Tessa nodded. "We'll want to do some tests, but quite possibly; likely even."

"I didn't need my glasses in my other form," Harry mused, wiggling fingers in front of his face. "I still don't, it seems. Still have the scar, though.

Logan nodded. "Try t' change back t' th' other form. Y'r gonna needta learn t' do it at will. Ya wanna get usedta doin' it."

Harry tried. At first nothing happened. They were about to give up and try again in the morning when Logan hit on an idea.

"Imagine Voldemort. Picture his ugly mug in y'r head."

That did it. Harry morphed his from almost instantly with a grunt of discomfort, but not pain like the first time. "Didn't hurt as bad this time. The first time it hurt like the devil. This time it was just uncomfortable."

"That's enough f'r th' first day." Logan decided. "Change back t' y'r smaller form. We'll start y'r real trainin' t'morrow. We just got th' summer t' get ya ready. Assumin' ya wanna go back t' Hogwarts, that is. I think ya should, but y'r old enough t' make that decision on y'r own."

"I'd like to go back," Harry admitted. "I still have a lot to learn there. I just met you, though. I want to get to know you, too."

Logan laughed. "Ya ain't gotta worry 'bout that, Harry. Wherever you go, I ain't gonna be too far away. 'Sides, we got th' whole summer 'fore we even gotta think 'bout crossin' that bridge. Right now, let's get ya introduced t' th' other students here."

"How many students are there?" Harry asked as he shifted.

"Only 'bout seven right now." Logan shrugged. "We usually go a lot more, but those as got families who're still talkin' to 'em 've gone home f'r least a few weeks. Th' ones still here either ain't got homes t' go back to or don't wanna bring trouble back home with 'em. Jubilee an' Kurt 'r orphans. Warren, Bobby an' Rogue ain't welcome at home. Kitty's folks 'r goin' through a messy divorce she don't wanna get caught in th' middle of. Peter's family is visitin' relatives in Russia an' the Russkies ain't very mutant friendly these days; not since a guy they call Omega Red an' some others tried t' launch a coup earlier this year."

Harry spent the next two hours getting to know his fellow students. Bobby, Kitty and Rogue were all about the same age as he was. Jubilee was a little younger. Peter, Warren and Kurt were a little older. All of them were very nice. He also met Dr. McCoy and Forge, the last two members of the faculty. Hank and Kurt, even Warren, were all a little strange at first, but the novelty quickly wore off.

By the time Dr. Strange opened a portal and he and Professor Dumbledore stepped out onto the mansion's front lawn, Harry was feeling surprisingly comfortable at the mansion. In fact, if anything, he felt more comfortable there than he even did at Hogwarts where everyone seemed to have expectations of the "boy that lived". Here, he was just another teenager learning to control his powers. It was really rather refreshing.

When Logan stepped out to greet them next to Harry, Albus did a double take. Until this moment, he hadn't really believed it could be true. There was no way James could have survived that attack, but there he was.

He'd changed, of course, but there was little doubt it was the same man. There were a dozen small things: the set of his ears, the look of his eyes, the quirky smile, the stance, the expression, small hand gestures, his gaze, several phrases he used. It was all there.

"James," was all the normally eloquent professor could manage.

"Albus," Logan responded. "I'd thank ya f'r takin' care of my kid, but we both know ya really didn't. We're gonna have a long talk 'bout that later."

Xavier came out at that moment and confirmed what they'd all been thinking. "He was manipulated as much as the rest of us, Logan. Even then, he did everything he could to work around the High Evolutionary's control."

Albus blinked. "Legilimancy?"

Charles smiled. "Telepathy. Although, it accomplishes the same thing. Later, with your permission, of course, I can remove the blocks placed on your mind. Now that I know they're there and the man responsible for them is no longer reinforcing them, it should be easy enough."

Dumbledore nodded. "You're saying that someone has been manipulating me, and apparently others as well for almost fourteen years?"

"Longer 'n that," Logan told him. "He started this before James Potter was even born; back when he destroyed my old body an' put me in the embryo he planted in Euphemia Potter. After James was killed, he wiped my mind and set me loose in Canada so he could turn his attention on Harry. One o' these days he's gonna pay f'r that . . . with his life. That's beside the point, though. Let's take this inside. We got a lotta ground t' cover."

Dumbledore nodded. "That we do, old friend. That we most certainly do."

He turned to Harry. "You're looking well, my boy. I'm glad to see you back in your old body . . . albeit a bit taller and better filled out."

"I can switch back and forth," Harry told him, "at least, I'm learning to. My father and Professor Xavier think this could be what I'd have looked like if I hadn't spent a decade living with the Dursleys."

"Petunia and Vernon have a lot to answer for." Dumbledore's rarely seen anger was rising to the surface. "Now that I realize I was being manipulated, I can see the key decisions that were affected; not the least of which was leaving you in that house for ten minutes, much less ten years. Yes, James, I'd say the person responsible has a great deal to pay for."

They took the conversation inside and soon sat down to dinner. It was quite the surreal experience for all. Scott and Jean ate at one table with the Professor, Logan, Dumbledore, Dr. Strange and Harry. The rest of the faculty, as was customary, were spread at tables with the students. Many conversations were had, but the atmosphere was still rather subdued for mealtimes at the mansion.

Logan and Dumbledore got reacquainted. Harry listened raptly to their conversation and barely said ten words the whole time. The others at the table either conversed with each other, with Dr. Strange or interjected into the conversation between the two old friends. Even those at the other tables were affected by the tension at the main table. They all vanished quickly as soon as they finished eating, leaving the seven to their conversation.

"I can't apologize strongly enough for what I let happen to you, Harry," Dumbledore said earnestly as they sat around the table after the meal. "Mind control or not, there's no excuse for it."

Harry nodded. "I don't blame you, sir. I'm not even sure the Dursleys were completely responsible. When I get older and better trained, I'm going to this Mount Wundagore and deal with this High Evolutionary fellow. He's almost as bad as, if not worse than, Voldemort himself."

Logan smiled viciously. "I'll go with ya when ya do, Harry. Ya c'n be sure o' that."

"As will we all," Jean interjected passionately.

"In th' meantime," Logan growled, "I'm gonna ask Stark an' Richards an' th' other brains t' start workin' on some tech t' deal with him permanently as well as protectin' us from him long enough t' do it. He's been playin' with people's lives f'r way too long. He may have godlike powers, but he ain't no god. We can't call ourselves heroes if we don't do somethin' t' stop him."

"You'll have the support of many in the magical community when you do so, James," Dumbledore promised. "Despite what the Ministry may wish, Harry has many powerful friends; not only at Hogwarts and throughout Britain, but all over Europe."

"I believe," Dr. Strange noted, "that when the time comes, we'll need all the help we can get. Herbert Wyndham may not be a god, but he is certainly no longer human or even mortal. He is neither omniscient nor omnipotent, but he is in a small group of entities who are close to being both."

"The question is," Dumbledore brought up eventually, "what happens to Harry in the meantime?"

"Up t' him," Logan informed everyone with finality. "He's old enough t' decide f'r himself."

Every eye turned to Harry, who swallowed nervously. "I want to finish my training at Hogwarts, but I don't want to ignore what training I could get here."

Dumbledore looked thoughtful. "There could be a way to do both."

He had everyone's attention. "I've noted several people in this school with magical potential. Dr. Grey, for example, could have been very powerful if she'd been located at the right age. For that matter, the same is true of Miss Monroe, and your friend Forge already has interesting potential. Unfortunately, the ladies are both too old to be trained formally and he's already been bound to a different path; the shamanic path. I did note, surprisingly, that three of your students, however, have the potential; Miss Pryde, Mr. Wagner and Mr. Rasputin. They're a little old to be first years, but a year of concentrated training would bring them closer to the potential of their ages."

He paused. "As for you, Mr. Logan, we're looking for a Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher. You may no longer have the ability to cast spells yourself, but if you remember even half of what you knew as James Potter, you would have much to offer our students."

Dr. Strange interjected at that point. "Reed Richards once told me that the gene that governs magical potential and the gene that governs mutant or meta potential are closely tied. He felt that once someone was fully trained in either, they would no longer be able to tap the other, but younger subjects could potentially develop both. I thought it only an interesting theory at the time, but . . . ."

"It would be worth investigating," Xavier mused. "If the three, or any others are interested, Logan, and possibly Forge, could accompany them to Hogwarts along with Harry and oversee their training with their powers while they learn to harness their magical potential. I have to wonder, however, how many of my other students have this potential. Six of fifteen is no random sampling, it's a pattern."

Dumbledore nodded agreement. "As much as I'd like to stay the summer and look into these possibilities, my presence is needed in Britain. With your permission, however, Professor Xavier, I'd like to ask one of my associates to come here and oversee the earliest training of any students interested in attending Hogwarts. I believe Minerva McGonagall would be willing to do so."

"I'll take ya up on y'r offer, Albus," Logan said. "It'll give me a chance t' be close t' my son."

He paused and turned to Xavier. "And, Chuck, McGonagall's top notch."

Xavier sighed at the use of the name. "Your recommendation is noted, Logan, and appreciated, but unnecessary. I was already ready to welcome Professor McGonagall on Professor Dumbledore's recommendation alone. It's always nice to have confirmation, of course."

"I'll send her immediately," Dumbledore promised. "She's usually a little at odds during the summer, anyway. I'm sure she'll welcome the challenge."

Conversations went on for several hours, then in the morning, Logan appropriated one of the school's jets to fly Dumbledore back to Britain and pick up Professor McGonagall for the return trip. He also planned an unpleasant stop off at the Ministry to get Sirius' name cleared once and for all. Harry asked to tag along for the ride mostly because he wanted to see what his father was going to do.

Kitty, Peter and Kurt joined so they could visit Diagon Alley to purchase wands and some books for their remedial summer course. Kitty and Kurt were enthused about the possibility of learning magic. Peter was interested, but Harry figured he was going for it as much to be close to Kitty as anything else.

By the time they touched the cloaked plane down outside Hogwarts, a plan of action had been agreed to. Dumbledore and Professor McGonagall would take the three new students to Diagon Alley. Logan and Harry would take the floo network from Hogsmeade to the Ministry where they would be met by Alastor Moody who would later give them access to the Order of the Phoenix' current base of operations on Grimmauld Place so Logan could get reacquainted with his old friends Moony and Padfoot.

"I'd rather ya went with the others, Harry," Logan tried one last time to dissuade his son.

"No way, dad." Harry was adamant. "I want to see the look on Minister Fudge's face when put him in his place."

Logan couldn't fault the boy for that, so a few minutes later, the pair appeared in in a flash of green flame in one of the many entry points around the lobby of the Ministry of Magic. The appearance of the "boy who lived" and his shorter, but dangerous looking companion raised many an eyebrow.

"I remember Fudge from Hogwarts," Logan told his son. "Wasn't much impressed with him then, even less so later. Last time I was here, he was a mid-grade functionary. The cream may rise to th' top, but more often 'n not, crap floats."

Harry couldn't help but laugh a little at the image.

A secretary stopped them at the Minister's outer office. "The Minister is rather busy today. May I ask your names and what your business is?"

"Name's James Potter. This is my son, Harry. You probably recognize him. I needta let th' Ministry know I ain't dead an' tell Fudge he's an idiot."

The woman blinked several times, then turned to inform the Minister.

"James Potter is dead," Fudge insisted through the open door.

"Not by a long shot," Logan shot back. "Ya gonna let us in or am I gonna haveta get physical. Given ya put my best friend in Azkaban without a trial f'r somethin' he had nothin' t' do with, I'm in just th' mood t' do some creative damage.

"Or maybe ya want me t' tell everyone out here what I saw when I found ya in that closet on th' fifth level o' Hogwarts."

Fudge sputtered. It was impossible. James and Lily Potter were dead. He and the whole Ministry attended their funerals. But how did this man know about that embarrassing incident?

"Let them in." He decided finally. "I'll see them."

When the door was closed behind them, Fudge looked Logan over. "Even if I didn't know James was dead, you look nothing like him."

He turned to Harry. "I'm glad to see that whatever happened to you last month was temporary."

"It wasn't." Harry transformed, then quickly transformed back. "I'm just learning to control it."

Logan told Fudge his story. The Minister considered it. The whole idea was ludicrous, of course.

"I don't know what you hope to gain from this charade," Fudge told them, "but it's ridiculous. James and Lily Potter are dead. I attended their funeral. Is this another ploy by Dumbledore to usurp the Ministry's authority and sow panic and confusion among the community? If it is, it will fail. You aren't even British."

"A legilimens could tell ya who I am, but you don't wanna know. Ya could confirm Harry's story o' what happened last month, but ya don't wanna know that either. Ya wanna keep believin' th' lies y'r tryin' t' sell t' everyone else.

"F'r that matter, a legilimens coulda cleared Sirius too, but ya weren't interested then any more'n ya are now. Y'r li'l kingdom's built on sand, Cornelius, an' a storm's comin'. That storm's named Voldemort."

"The Dark Lord is dead and anyone claiming otherwise risks being accused of sedition," Fudge insisted.

"My boy says he's back," Logan growled, "then he's back."

"Young Mr. Potter is either mistaken or deluded," Fudge insisted adamantly and a little desperately. "He's in the sway of a charismatic manipulator who has troubled this community with his machinations for too long."

"Y'r an idiot," Logan told the bureaucrat disgustedly. "Ya oughtta know, if I gotta, I'll head over t' Gringotts right now an' reclaim my family estate. They'll confirm who I am even if you refuse to. It'll leave ya lookin' a li'l foolish when that happens an' word gets out I came here first."

Fudge sat silently behind his massive desk for several moments. This man had just called his bluff. Whoever he was, how could he be so sure he could fool a legilimens? There had to be a way to discredit him.

"Will you submit to interrogation under veritaserum?"

"Would," Logan grunted, "but it wouldn't do ya any good. I'm a mutant. Got this healin' factor that makes drugs an' poisons pretty much useless on me. I'm trained t' resist mind probes, too, but that I c'n turn off. A legilimens is th' only way y'r gonna know I'm tellin' th' truth.

"Dumbledore's already checked me out," Logan told the man. "He's sure enough of who I am, that he asked me t' teach Defense against th' Dark Arts this year."

"So, that's your game." Fudge thought he'd seen through a ruse. "Dumbledore is a fool if he thinks he can make a fool of me."

Harry looked down on the pathetic man. "He could if he wanted to, but nature already beat him to it."

Logan smirked. The kid was good with a phrase.

"So whattcha gonna do, Fudge?" He demanded. "Ya gonna confirm who I am or do I gotta head t' Gringotts? I ain't got all day an' I ain't as patient as I usedta be back when I was James."

"James Potter was a hothead." Fudge countered.

"I know." Logan grinned evilly.

In the end, the Minister didn't really have a choice. One way or another, he had to know.

He stepped out to speak with his secretary. "Contact the Department of Identification and have them send up their best legilimens."

When the woman summoned to do the reading left the Minister's office fifteen minutes later, there was no longer any question of Logan's identity. Fudge left them in the office for a moment to talk to her when she was finished, but came back quickly.

"The Ministry will update your status immediately." Fudge's expression was sour.

"While y'r at it," Logan insisted, "ya c'n clear Sirius Black of all charges. He wasn't th' Secret Keeper. Peter Pettigrew was. He betrayed us t' Voldemort, not Sirius; not that ya cared, then 'r now. Ya just wanted y'r pound o' flesh; didn't give a damn 'bout justice 'r th' law, much less what was right."

"I wasn't in charge then." Fudge tried to excuse himself.

"Didn't see ya doin' anything 'bout it once ya were." Logan cut him no slack.

"We'll look into it," Fudge tried to change the subject. "What are your plans now that you're back?"

"I'm gonna take a year an' teach a class at Hogwarts while I get t' know my son an' help him hunt Voldemort down once an' f'r all. After that, we'll see."

"Regardless of what Dumbledore has convinced your son of," the Minister insisted, "the Dark Lord is dead."

"No," Harry insisted irritably. "He's not. His body was destroyed, but he didn't die. He used the Tri-Wizard Tournament and Barty Crouch Jr. to get to me, then used me in a ritual that created a new body and merged his . . . essence with it. He's back and sticking your head in the mud isn't going to change that."

"So you say, but offer no proof of your claim. You expect us to take you at your word?"

"Weren't th' bodies o' Pettigrew an' three other Deatheaters at Riddle's old home enough proof?" Logan interjected.

"There were bodies, but they were too mangled for positive identification. There's no evidence that the Dark Lord is anything but dead and any claims to the contrary will be greatly frowned upon by my administration. Let Dumbledore's recent change in fortune be a warning."

He tried foolishly to intimidate the two. "Any attempt to spread any unproven claims regarding his survival to the innocent students of Hogwarts will be frowned upon and considered grounds for termination . . . or expulsion. A representative of the Ministry will be assigned to the school to insure that this edict is enforced."

"Notice ya didn't have that legilimens scan Harry." Logan, of course, didn't intimidate. "Whattsa matter, Cornelius? Afraid of what she'd learn? F'r that matter, I'm sure th' Ministry has a pensieve around somewhere. Ya c'n see what happened f'r y'rself."

"Pensieves can be deceiving," the Minister insisted, "and the boy is a void to the legilimens. I had her scan him. He's unreadable."

"I am?"

"Figured it was possible, kid. Even with y'r claws an' strength, y'r powers 'r mainly defensive. Given what ya been dealin' with, some kinda psychic shields wouldn't be outta the realm of possibility. If they're mind witch can't penetrate 'em, they must be pretty impressive.

"Leaves us at an impasse." Logan turned to Fudge. "We can't prove he's back an' you can't prove he ain't. Ya better hope we're wrong, though, 'cuz if we ain't, y'r gonna get caught with y'r pants down . . . again.

"We ain't gonna lie if someone comes out an' asks, but I don't need t' tell these kids a war's comin' in order t' prepare 'em t' fight it. That's what I'll be teachin' 'em, by th' way; how t' fight; how t' fight an' how t' win. It's somethin' I've gotten real good at."

"You will stick to the curriculum," Fudge demanded.

"Th' curriculum has a lotta room f'r interpretation. Th' kids'll learn what they needta know in order t' pass their OWLs an' stuff. What I teach beyond that's up t' me an' mosta that won't be usin' a wand."

 **Writer's Notes: Don't try to fit my X-Men into any of the movie, TV or comic timelines. It won't work. I'm ignoring all of the canons and doing my own things. Some X-Men, like Xavier, Tessa, Logan, Storm and Beast all have to be adults in my mind. Others like Jubilee and Kitty need to be teens. Most could go either way and I did what I wanted with them. If my take is close to any of the canons, it's closest to the original movie trilogy, but there are a lot of variations even there, like Rogue has Ms. Marvel's powers and Jean isn't on the verge of killing Scott and Xavier.**

 **The whole bit with the mutant gene and the wizard gene being so close together as to cause an inordinate amount of crossover kind of developed organically. I wanted this to be a Harry/X-Men story, not just a Harry/Logan one, but I wanted it mostly based at Hogwarts. How better to do this, my muse told me than to have several of the younger X-Men become exchange students. I then chose nine students I thought would fit in. I chose Dani Moonstar, Warpath, Siryn, Mercury, Nightcrawler, Pixie, Colossus, Psylocke and Shadowcat. Illyana will someday attend Hogwarts as well, but she's currently four years old.**


End file.
